


Fixation

by BewareTheIdes15



Category: Supernatural
Genre: 69, M/M, Oral Fixation, Sibling Incest, Wincest - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-07-04
Updated: 2011-07-04
Packaged: 2017-10-21 00:20:23
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,253
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/218726
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BewareTheIdes15/pseuds/BewareTheIdes15
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sammy had always had kind of an oral fixation.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Fixation

Sammy had always had kind of an oral fixation. From bottles and pacifiers to thumb sucking right on up. Most people - ones without the obsessive hyperfocus toward Sam's mouth that Dean had - probably didn't even notice the way his baby brother was always chewing on a pen, or eating a piece of candy or licking his damn fingers.

From the time Sam was about 6, every time he had a nightmare he would climb into bed with Dean. At first he would just curl up against his big brother and suck on his own thumb until he was lulled back into sleep. Sometimes it was Dean's thumb he'd want instead, and since Dean had never denied Sammy anything - especially something so simple, that could comfort him so much - Dean would let him have it, waking up to a digit sucked wet and wrinkled.

As time went on, it progressed beyond a thumb to a finger or two, and then to a soft, laving suckle on his neck or collarbone. Dean wasn't really sure how it happened or when it evolved that way, it had seemed so natural, so easy, and Sammy needed it so much. Then, when Sam was about 10 and getting too old to be climbing into his brother's bed - Dad was starting to have little 'talks' with them about it - Dean woke one night to the feel of his little brother's mouth lightly nudging at his own. Without even thinking about it, Dean opened up a little so that his bottom lip was between Sam's and let his little brother suck gently at it until Dean's lip was hot and blood-heavy and Sammy was puffing the deep breaths of sleep.

From that night on - years past the time when Dad told them that it just had to stop - having Sammy's mouth on his became a ritual between them; Dean's lip locked between Sam's, the sweet glide of warm, wet flesh and soft, needy pressure. It was never kissing, not the way Dean knew it anyway, just Sam sucking on his lip, and somehow that seemed like it ought to be ok. It wasn't wrong as long as it wasn't kissing, and if one or both of them woke up with their shorts wet and sticky from it, well, they were young, these things happen. That justification probably should have stopped working when Dean turned 20, but it didn't, and even if he told himself it was all for Sammy, to help with his nightmares, the truth was that Dean never slept right without that heat against his mouth.

It shouldn't have been a surprise, years later, when the nightmares were turning out to be real, that Dean felt that nudge against his lips again. But it was, and when he opened his mouth then, it was in a small gasp of shock. Sam didn't seem to mind either way, just spread his lips over Dean's plump lower one and started up a gentle, desperate suckle as though not a night had passed without it.

That silky-rough tongue slicked across Dean's lip, prodding a little at the forgiving flesh before returning to the light pressure that made Dean's head spin and his breath go short. He would have said something, really, except it was hard to talk with Sam attached to him like that and his little brother wasn't letting up for a second.

This was different than it had been before, all the hesitancy and calm replaced by hunger and a terrifying, almost raw vulnerability. Sam's body against his felt like a trapped animal, cornered and starving, like Dean was the only thing that could save him.

Sam pushed roughly at Dean's mouth, opening up until his top lip matched Dean's and that slippery muscle slid into the older Winchester's waiting mouth. No, it had never been like this before; he'd never felt the smooth flick of Sam's tongue against his, never learned the sweet, clean taste of Sam. It was intoxicating, flooding Dean's system, pounding through his veins electrically and lighting him up.

His mouth, was moving of its own accord, completely ignoring the part of his brain that was still screaming 'What the fuck is going on? That's your brother pervert!' in favor of the pulsing, bone-deep litany of 'Sammy. Mine!'.

Sam was moaning into him and Dean swallowed it, drank it down and begged for more with the tangling caress of his tongue. He explored every smooth, warm inch of Sam's mouth, making love to each curve of muscle and tendon, learning it, claiming it. Dean hadn't realized how much he'd missed this, this closeness, until now he had it back fresh and it was like he was breathing for the first time in years. Sam was air, life, the only thing worth living for, and he was back.

Dean wasn't sure when his hands had started roaming, when his fingers had found the smooth expanse of Sam's naked back, the baby-fine softness of his curls. Sam arched into every touch, needy, ravenous sounds echoing up from deep in his throat and Dean needed to feel them against his lips so badly he felt like he was going to climb out of his skin.

His lips slid down the jut of Sam's chin to the thin, sensitive flesh of his throat. Dean's tongue found the throb of blood there, pumping furiously under his touch, and took a minute to suck the skin in time to the rhythm underneath. Sam keened and pressed forward into the contact and Dean could feel the vibrations against his cheek. At some point he had started talking, whispering, pressing a breathy tempo of 'Sam, Sammy' into his brother's skin as his kissed his way down the delicate column. He could feel every breath, every sound through his abused lips and he could live right here forever.

The hollow at the base of the throat hummed with life, with Sam, and his tongue dipped into it, lapping at the tripping cadence of Sam's heartbeat, filling him with the taste and feel and smell of Sam. Long fingers were sliding though his hair, down his neck, over his spine, memorizing, feeling, soothing. Dean was on fire, he was freezing to death, he was a swelling ball of frantic energy and the only thing that would do, that could keep him together, was his brother.

Sam, god, there was so much Sam; so much he'd never gotten to touch and feel and discover and he hated that there was even one spot on Sammy’s body that could be a mystery to him. He wanted it all.

Dean's mouth slid down farther, a soft line of kisses over Sam's sternum, rooting nuzzles at his collar bones. He bathed his brother's chest with his tongue, hot open kisses punctuating the hard curves of muscle. Sam's finger were digging in hard, urging him on when Dean reached a nipple, taking the time to nose at the pebbled flesh before licking over it. Sam hissed, hips bucking wildly, and Dean wrapped his arms tight around his brother's waist, plastering them together in one lean hard line. He lavished the dusky nub with open mouth kisses and hungry suction and gentle nips that had Sam's muscles twitching all over. Then he moved on to its twin and repeated the process.

He laid a kiss over each individual rib, each jut of abdominal muscle as he worked down further still. A puff of warm breath over Sam's navel had his him squirming and cursing and Dean couldn’t help but grin before he set to torturing the little divot with teeth and tongue. By the time Dean was nuzzling into the soft trail of hair on Sam's belly his little brother was gasping like a dying man.

It was impossible to ignore the swollen, pleading flesh pressed against Dean's neck and he caressed the wet spot at the head with his jaw before pulling down the waistband of Sam's boxers. The rush of scent released was heady and any rhyme or reason Dean may have had left flew out the window with it. He pressed his face lovingly into the mass of dark curls at Sam's base, breathing deep a scent he had always known, but never so strongly. This was pure and absolute Sam, and it was going to be Dean's now, no matter what.

The pressure of Sam's hands, the roll of his hips were urging Dean, but he wasn't ready to relinquish his exploring just yet. Instead of moving on to the prize, Dean slid lower, opening his brother's legs enough to reveal his taught, velvety sac. Dean began there with gentle, dry kisses. Sam's hands moved from his head, clearly doing his best to let Dean have his way, and clenched ferociously at his own thighs instead.

Dean kept his tongue soft as he licked his way over the smooth, yielding flesh, then slowly opened his mouth and took one of the perfect orbs in. Sam let loose a deep animal sound as his nails left red lines on his own thighs. Dean laved at the heated flesh in his mouth, savoring the taste before moving on to the other side. Sam was panting and breathless above him, head tossing from side to side, hips begging with their rhythm for what Sam couldn't or wouldn't ask for with words.

Dean relented, as hungry for a taste of what he'd never realized he wanted as Sam was to give it. He licked at the thick base, running his cheek against the silken, blood-heavy flesh. When his tongue ran from root to tip, the low whine in Sam's voice raised by octaves until at last it cracked into silence. One kiss at the sensitive bundle of nerves below the head and then at last Dean closed his mouth over the needy crown.

Sam's flavor burst across his tongue and Dean moaned roughly, all sensation narrowed down the glide of skin, the weight in his mouth. He opened to take more, to take it all, everything Sam would let him have and struggled past his body's reflex to close up. Dean was nothing if not stubborn, pushing past the discomfort and his body's reaction until Sam was buried all the way inside of him. He had to pull back far too soon to breathe and Sam's hands were suddenly on him, pulling him away.

Dean barely managed to contain a sob as Sam's palms cradled his cheeks, keeping him from taking his brother’s cock down deep again.

"Dean," Sam breathed, voice a raw, fucked out rasp, "Dean please. Wanna taste you."

The older Winchester's fogged brain stalled on that until Sam sat up enough to start tugging at Dean's legs, trying to force him to turn. Then the pieces clicked into place and Dean was moving at double time, his own achingly hard cock protesting its neglect as Dean turned to have his feet resting at the headboard.

Sam wasted no time in divesting his brother of his underwear, ignoring the preliminaries and sliding his hot, wet mouth over Dean's member immediately. Dean thrust involuntarily into that heat, resting his head on Sam's thigh as he struggled to catch his breath beyond the molten perfection engulfing him.

Sam sucked Dean's cock with the same voracity he had showed his lips earlier and there was no chance of finesse anymore because Dean's brain had melted. Instead he just took Sam into his mouth again and hollowed his cheeks, bobbing his head along the length at a furious pace. Sam matched him stroke for stroke, wide hands cupping Dean's ass and pressing him forward further into Sam's eager mouth.

They were spiraling higher and higher together, a circuit feeding on its own pleasure as they both gave and felt it in equal measure. Sam's tongue wiggled against the head, dipping into Dean's slit on the upstroke and Dean mimicked to move on his brother's cock, earning a spurt of salty precome. They were moaning around each other, the vibrations only adding to the sensation and at last, on a particularly deep thrust, Sam fell over the edge, pumping hot and thick down his brother's throat.

The taste and feel of Sam, the dizzying knowledge that HE was the reason for his brother's pleasure, coupled with the exquisitely hard suction Sam was providing in the throes of his own bliss were enough to send Dean into oblivion too. His body was electric and alive, every inch of him singing with the pleasure rolling through him as Sam sucked down every last drop.

Sam's cock slid from his mouth with a wet pop and Dean was too drained to do more than pillow his head on Sam's thigh and nose at the soft hairs there. Sam twitched ticklishly, finally releasing Dean's spent dick as well, licking his lips wantonly.

Dean felt like one of them should say something, ask what happened, what brought this on, but he wasn't really sure how. He opened his mouth anyway, not entirely sure what was going to come pouring out, but Sam stopped him.

"Don't, just don't." he sighed, copying Dean's pose with his head on his big brother's thigh. And that was alright, they had never talked about it before, why should they need to now. Whatever it was between them, they would deal with it. Sam was back, Sam was here and real and Dean's and he wasn't going to let go ever again without a fight.


End file.
